Goodbye, Crap Band

Tomorrow I am having my Lap Band removed. For those of you that have followed along at home, you know this has been an ongoing fight with this piece of crap for nearly a decade now, beginning with a serious malfunction a mere three months after having it placed.

This was never the thing for me. My body was telling me so from the very beginning, yet I stubbornly clung to the hope that this would be the magic "something" that I needed to be thin and beautiful. Spoiler alert: it was not, and while I no longer want that thin and beautiful ideal, I would like to be healthy.

Since the last major incident with this piece of shit plastic, I've felt like I have a ticking time bomb in my body. Every time food gets stuck, every time the reflux flares up, every time I have pain in my left side where the port is, I would wonder if that was it for me and my stomach. I've seen what it can do (reflux, fucked up esophagus, gangrenous stomach, DEATH), but I still kept it.

It almost feels like an abusive relationship (absolutely no offense meant to anyone who has dealt with legit abusive relationships). I know what this thing is doing to my body. I know it isn't helping me anymore (if it ever did help me in the first place). I know that right now I feel like I can't exist without it, but that's a lie. I lived thirty years without it. I even lost weight on my own. Yet there is that inner voice telling me that even though this thing is useless, I'll go back to what I was before, that I don't have the strength or willpower to do it alone. That I'll be a failure for the rest of what remains of my life, if I even live that long while being so grossly obese.

These thoughts are tiring and wrong, and I know they stem from being afraid of gaining all of the weight I did lose (100 lbs) back. I'm still not at a healthy weight. I want to be. I want to live my life and be a good example for my son. I know keeping something that is actively hurting me isn't a good example at all, but I'm so afraid to part with it. It's stupid. I could die from it, but I also feel like it's the only thing keeping me in check, even if it isn't.

Tomorrow it will all be a moot point. After I heal up, I'll have the option of getting another surgery to help with my weight, but I'm quite obviously reluctant to move forward on that. I guess time will tell whether or not I can succeed in losing weight on my own or if I'll need yet another helping hand because I'm weak. I want to be strong. I want to be healthy without needing to get my guts rearranged. That's all I want.

Well, that and surviving the surgery. That would be a plus, too.